


Taking the Next Step

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Banter, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Masturbation, Multi, Open Relationships, Team Bonding, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:19:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate and Sophie decide to make their true feelings for Eliot known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking the Next Step

  
“You know, you didn’t have to dirty up the pans to fool me.” Eliot’s tone was light and teasing as he gestured at the kitchen sink with his beer. “Doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out you catered in from Ma Soba.”

Sophie made a noise of protest, and Nate glared at him. In Nate’s case the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was literally up to his elbows in said dirty pans. “Six hours,” the older man countered, with an air of having been deeply put out by the experience. “Six hours, with some Food Network show on endless repeat while she trashes my kitchen.”

“ _Our_ kitchen,” Sophie snapped back, the laughter in her eyes softening the sting in her words. “Downstairs belongs to everybody.”

Nate looked at Eliot. “Take her out of here, would you?”

He’d been leaning against the refrigerator, enjoying the good natured squabbling in much the same way he would have enjoyed most sporting events, but at Nate’s request Eliot pushed himself upright and went dutifully to Sophie’s side. “Come on. You heard what the man said.”

Grumbling, Sophie nevertheless remembered to grab her wine glass as Eliot steered her towards the sofa. There hadn’t been a lot of alcohol during dinner, just enough to smooth away the rough edges. Eliot was pleasantly buzzed, and if the flush on Sophie’s cheeks was any indication, she was somewhere in the same neighborhood. “Having fun?” she asked, grinning at him.

Laughing softly, he hugged her to his side. “You know I am,” he said. “Even if I still think you guys are pulling something with the food.” The three of them had started getting together every few weeks for dinner; Sophie and Nate had proven themselves to be more than willing to follow Eliot’s lead when it came to trying out some new and interesting restaurant the city had to offer. In the beginning Eliot had tried bringing along a date of his own, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that even if he was odd man out, the evenings were more fun when he flew solo.

This was the first time Nate had suggested them doing an evening in. Eliot had been prepared for them to ask him to cook, so it had been something of a surprise when Sophie declared her intention to take over kitchen duties.

It had been even more of a surprise when the food had turned out to be delicious. He had a few things he would have done differently, but overall Eliot had no complaints. The chance to tease Sophie about pulling some kind of con regarding her culinary achievement, however, had been impossible to resist.

“You’re just feeling threatened,” Sophie said lightly, “because I made something you liked.”

Eliot snorted. “You’re extremely talented at a great many things, Soph.” He turned her slightly, so that they were facing each other. “You can’t expect me to believe sushi is anywhere on that list.”

She put a hand on his chest, looking directly into his eyes, and Eliot felt his pulse speed up. “When I have a chef as brilliant as you virtually at my beck and call, why would I waste my time cooking?”

The over-the-top nature of her flattery was entirely at odds with the intense way she was suddenly looking at him. Eliot swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a faltering step backwards. In a brief flash of a moment, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to move the rest of the way in and kiss her.

“You know, we’ve been talking – Nate and I,” Sophie said, breaking eye contact and brushing past him on her way to the sofa. “These evenings together, just the three of us – they’re something we really look forward to.”

Exhaling softly, trying to get himself back under control, Eliot followed in her wake. “Me too,” he agreed, steadying her as she turned and sat gracefully on the edge of the sofa cushion. He joined her a moment later, setting his beer on the table next to her wine glass.

“You mean the world to both of us, Eliot,” Sophie said softly, moving in to him until their knees were touching. Her eyes met his, and Eliot felt the same spark he’d felt earlier leap between them. It was something he’d felt before, but never in a situation where he’d had the room and the space to act on it.

 _Not that you should…_ Memory of Nate surfaced then, bringing a pang of guilt along with the realization that he couldn’t hear the water anymore. Feeling the weight of that gaze on him – more than the others he was always aware of when Nate was watching him – Eliot turned to see the older man had come out from the kitchen and was drying his hands on a dish towel. “This sounds like it’s building up to something ominous,” he said, including them both in the statement.

There was a dark light in Nate’s eyes as he looked back at Eliot, and the hitter shivered, feeling an abrupt jolt of nervous energy as things tightened in low and unexpected places in his body. “That depends on how you answer my question,” Nate said finally. “Is my being here the only thing keeping you from kissing Sophie?”

All the air seemed to have left the room. Eliot knew his jaw was hanging open, but he literally didn’t know how to respond.

And then Sophie was moving on the sofa, hitching herself up so that she was in his line of sight again…and Eliot was certain he felt something in his brain snap as he realized she’d taken off her top while he’d been looking at Nate. “It’s a two-part question, actually,” she said, her voice thick with promise as she met his eyes. “Is my being here the only thing keeping you from kissing Nate?”

There was about half a second where Eliot’s brain recovered enough to remind him that he’d had more than a few dreams exactly like where this appeared to be heading, and maybe he needed to check that he hadn’t fallen asleep or something, and then Sophie was leaning into him – kissing him so fiercely he could barely breathe.

Growling low in his throat, Eliot pulled Sophie into his lap. Even if his brain wasn’t ready to deal with what was happening, his body had no doubts what it wanted. He hugged her hard to his chest, fingertips digging furrows into her shoulder blades until she was making small, desperate noises of her own.

 _This is really happening…_ It was a stupid thought, but about all the higher function Eliot’s brain was capable of at that point. He felt Nate move in behind him on the sofa – hands slipping under the tail of his shirt, warm and sure against his skin, urging him into an embrace he’d fantasized about almost more often than he had the woman in front of him. Anticipation made Eliot clumsy as he groped for the clasp on Sophie’s bra. The lingerie was pretty enough – what little he’d been able to see of it – but Nate was doing something with his teeth to the back of Eliot’s neck now, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to have both of them – Sophie and Nate – as naked as possible before one of them came to their senses.

“I think he’s enjoying himself.” Sophie’s laugh was low and wicked in Eliot’s ear as she leaned into him to talk to Nate. The mastermind raised his head, and then the two of them were kissing each other.

“I think you’re right,” Nate agreed. His voice had taken on the same dark, low tone as Sophie’s, and just as Eliot managed to successfully fumble open the clip on Sophie’s bra, Nate’s right hand reached Eliot’s belt buckle. “I also think he’s got too many clothes on.”

Sophie went to her knees on Eliot’s thighs, balancing herself with her fingertips against the meat of his shoulders. “He’s right,” she said, looking down on him – her hair rumpled, her eyes mock serious. “You do.”

There was a certain amount of heady submission involved Eliot in reaching up to pull Sophie down for another kiss by way of his answer and letting Nate undo his jeans. He managed to get her bra off and thrown aside in all the frenzied fumbling and groping, but by that point Nate’s hand had slipped inside his pants, palm cupping the half-hard bulge of his erection. “Relax.” Nate’s breath was warm and soothing against his skin, but Eliot was hyper-aware of the irrevocable shift everything had just taken in their relationship.

“We’ve got all night.” Nate was pulling him back again; Sophie stepped to her feet, taking over the responsibility of stripping out of the rest of her clothes. “We’ve got all weekend if you want.”

 _If I want?_ Eliot turned in Nate’s arms, surging forward and kissing him as fiercely as he and Sophie had been kissing moments earlier. Nate moved with him perfectly, confidently – like they’d been in this moment a hundred times before. His right hand stayed between Eliot’s thighs… _squeezing…pressing…_ working him until Eliot was achingly hard and making soft, desperate noises he was pretty sure he hadn’t made since he was seventeen and getting his first blow job.

“You’re an evil son of a bitch, you know that?” he gasped, pulling back just enough to get his bearings and meet Nate’s eyes.

They were almost black – pupils blown wide, like Eliot was something too bright for Nate to focus on – and there was a hunger in their depths that sent tremors shivering across Eliot’s skin. “I’m a man who knows what he wants, Eliot.” His voice had that firm, controlled cadence now that made Eliot want to follow him to the ends of the earth. “Sophie’s the same way.” Almost on cue, the grifter slipped in behind him, and Eliot could feel without looking that she was naked.

Her fingers combed through the tangle of his hair as she molded herself to Eliot’s back. “And what we want, right here and now,” she murmured, using the point of her tongue to trace the line of his earlobe, “is you.”


End file.
